Of Some Other Metal
by DivineSerenity1
Summary: (Formerly An Abominable Engagement). Forced into an engagement with Mr. Collins, Elizabeth feels that her life is over. However, help comes unexpectedly in none other than Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. Will Mr. Darcy be able to prevent the ill-fated marriage? Or will Elizabeth be lost to Mr. Collins forever? Characters may be OOC. COPYRIGHT 2017.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Forced into an engagement with Mr. Collins, Elizabeth feels that her life is over. However, help comes unexpectedly in none other than Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. Will Mr. Darcy be able to prevent the ill-fated marriage? Or will Elizabeth be lost to Mr. Collins forever?

This story takes place right after the Netherfield Ball, when Mr. Collins proposes to Elizabeth. I skipped over the proposal, and went straight to the scene where Mr. Bennet makes his decision on whether he would have Elizabeth marry Mr. Collins or not.

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : Pride and Prejudice is the sole property of Jane Austen. This story, however, is the property of the author © 2017, any unauthorized reproduction or publishing of any content of this story is strictly prohibited.

* * *

"No! I cannot!" She exclaimed desperately.

"You must." He replied sternly.

"I will not and you cannot make me!"

"I can and you will." He said with such force that she was stunned into silence. "You will do well to remember child that I am your father, and as you are under your majority, you will do as I say, and I say that you are to marry Mr. Collins!"

At her father's ruling, her mother exclaimed with joy, "Oh we are saved! Thank you Mr. Bennet, I knew you'd make the right decision!" Mrs. Bennet had the gall to simper.

Defeated, Elizabeth wept while her knees let out, and she landed roughly on her hip, though she didn't feel a thing, such was her anguish. Her cries soon turned to heart wrenching sobs, and thus she attempted to muffle with her hands with minimal success. Though she was not able to see her mother through her tears, it did not matter; Elizabeth knew her mother must've held the most triumphant look upon her visage.

"Oh shush Lizzy, it is not the end of the world," her mother admonished, "why, you will one day be mistress of Longbourn!"

Elizabeth chose not to dignify that with a response. With the feelings of hurt and betrayal overwhelming her, Elizabeth immediately picked herself up, and exited the room, as she could not stand the presence of her parents any longer. However she did not get far. As she exited the book room she came upon her _betrothed_ , who had a most self-satisfied air that's only purpose –she felt –was to grate on her already agitated spirits. He had obviously been listening, and knew he was the victor.

And yet, how could a man be satisfied knowing that he is to marry an unwilling bride? It was not to be borne, and yet, she could not do otherwise. Her father had spoken, and his word is law –as he had so ruthlessly pointed out moments before. Desperate to get as far away as possible, Elizabeth stormed out of Longbourn, not caring to gather her pelisse nor gloves before heading out the door. She hoped for rain, better yet a storm. With any luck, she'd catch illness and die. Though it would not be a particularly dignified demise, she'd prefer death a hundred-fold to marrying Mr. Collins. _To be united with such a man._

She ran as far and as fast as she could, until her legs ached and her chest burned from the strain. Elizabeth slowed down to take in her surroundings, and unexpectedly found herself in her most favorite place in the world –Oakham Mount. The vistas, the rolling hills, the greenery –all that she always enjoyed so much, her little haven, did nothing for her today.

Elizabeth sat at her favorite spot, against a large tree that had soft-mossy undergrowth that felt almost as soft as pillows while she reclined in repose. This was her usual place when she required thinking. She'd ponder over books, troubles she had (particularly with her mother), persons' characters, the tenants, or her sisters. Today though, she would not contemplate those things, as all she could ruminate was the fact that her life was over. _Surely_ , she thought, that after she married Mr. Collins, she'd never be the same. He'd take her happiness, her laughter, the very light in her life –the hopes to marry for love –he'd take everything from her, and all that would be left would be a shell of her former self.

To think, Elizabeth woke up with so much great hopes today –hopes for her dear sister Jane and Mr. Bingley. It was the day after the Netherfield ball, and yet, it felt like ages ago. Had it really happened only the night before? Surely it was days, weeks, or months ago? No, it was not. It had happened just yesterday. Elizabeth had danced, laughed, and enjoyed herself immensely. Albeit, with the exception of dancing with her odious cousin, for that was what he was –the very bane of her existence. It was far worse dancing with _him_ than with the taciturn Mr. Darcy.

 _Mr. Darcy_. He was a conundrum indeed, one that she'd doubtlessly ever have the chance of figuring out. Yesterday, she was angry with him. How _dare_ he single her out for a dance? She whom he only looked at to find fault; and yet, she was the only lady he danced with that was not amongst his party –a detail that Charlotte was only too happy to point out.

He also chased Mr. Wickham away. It was obvious as the gentleman failed to show, though he assured her that the very presence of Mr. Darcy would not keep him away. But in spite of his assurances, stood away he did. This news was conveyed to her by Mr. Wickham's good friend, Lieutenant Denny. Normally, Elizabeth would've pondered over the fact that Mr. Wickham did not keep to his word, and furthermore that he was indeed avoiding Mr. Darcy. She would have delved further into the mystery to eventually conclude that all was not as she initially perceived, and that there was most definitely more to the story between the two gentlemen than has been thus far revealed. Although Mr. Darcy would give her no details, he did attempt at some sort of a warning, Elizabeth supposed.

For he said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends –whether he may be equally capable of retaining them is less certain." *

Though at the time Elizabeth heard this with indignation, and had she had a clearer mind today – one not muddled of troubled thoughts revolving around Mr. Collins –she would have given herself to ruminating Mr. Darcy's words. Why would he say such a thing about Mr. Wickham? After all, Mr. Wickham was everything a gentleman ought to be. He was well mannered, charming, and (though embarrassed as she was to admit) most handsome. Yet, Mr. Darcy –stern, taciturn and sometimes downright haughty Mr. Darcy –had attempted to keep her away from Mr. Wickham. A clearer warning could not be given, though no other information was offered.

Initially, she had been inclined to come to Mr. Wickham's defense, how could she otherwise? The cruelty and contempt Mr. Darcy treated Mr. Wickham after the elder Mr. Darcy's passing was shameful. How could one clearly disregard his father's dying wishes? Although Elizabeth would not have been able to fault Mr. Darcy on that account, given she would unquestionably defy her father's orders had she a say in her own future! Oh if only she had the liberty to chuse! Mr. Collins, without a doubt, would be the last man she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. So no, she could not fault Mr. Darcy for disregarding his father's wishes, for she would disregard her father's desires, if she were able. Given this, Elizabeth would've come to the conclusion that perhaps Mr. Wickham was not the wretch that he claimed to be; and she furthermore would have kept a closer eye on him to fully determine his , none of these ruminations came to pass. How could they? When all Elizabeth could do is mourn a future that would never be hers, a future that denied her happiness, laughter, and above all, love.

Mr. Bennet was a miserable man. How could he not? For he had just sacrificed his daughter –his _most_ beloved child –to the odious Mr. Collins. Oh how he loathed the day he received the wretched letter from Kent. Mr. Bennet should have written back immediately and denied him entrance. But no, there was no use of wanting to change the past, for what good would it do? It could not change anything, what was done is done.

Besides, he knew that Elizabeth marrying Mr. Collins was a necessary evil. He just wished he would not have to part with her, especially to _him_. There will be neither love nor respect in that dreadful union, and he knew his Lizzy would fade away. His once intelligent, lively and bright child would fade away into a complacent ma'am –that parson's wife. He knew –oh did he know! –that his dearest precious Elizabeth could not survive being tied to such a man! For Mr. Collins was utterly ridiculous in his manner, his way of speaking, and that of his very thoughts!

And yet, it was the most fitting punishment, was it not? For Mr. Bennet had failed his family most abominably. He failed to provide for his wife and daughters after his death. Where he could have tended his property judiciously (as he very well ought), controlled his wife's outrageous spending, and increased the income of the estate, he did none of those things. Instead, he decided on academic pursuits, feeling that increasing one's understanding trumped any other obligations he had. He felt that he cannot be too much to blame, for he was sure he was to have a son –the heir of Longbourn. As the years passed by, and only girls were born, he did feel an inclination, rather a prick of consciousness that perhaps he ought to do _something_ for his family should he perish. Though just as soon as those thoughts crossed his mind, he'd become distracted, shut in his book room reading over cherished pursuits such as philosophy. Thus, ensconced in his domain, he let Mrs. Bennet full reign, for surely if his daughters married well, they would have no troubles in the future, once he was called to St. Peter's gate.

Yes, losing Elizabeth to Mr. Collins was his penance indeed –one he felt most keenly. He loved Elizabeth, and wanted the world for her. Although he loved all of his children, each dear to him in their own way. But Elizabeth, she was special. She reminded him of his dearly departed mother –in looks and mannerisms, she was the very essence of his mother. Elizabeth had such a lively mind and light-hearted wit, that Mr. Bennet wished the world for her. He knew her most heartfelt desires, and he wished with all his might he could give it to her. Nothing could make him happier than to see his children marry for love. Yet, he was the author of his dear daughter's unhappiness. For he _forced_ this farce of an engagement upon her. And why? All for his callousness, his very negligence that led him astray. That of which had recently come to his attention but mere weeks ago.

Mr. Bennet was having a day like any other. He was off attending his annual (although he knew it should at the very least be monthly) overseeing of his estate, when his horse became startled by a snake that unexpectedly crossed their path. Had Mr. Bennet been on his trusty steed, Goliath (one who was lovingly named by Lydia when she was but 9 years old), he would have been able to calm him and the incident would've been forgotten. However, Jane was to dine at Netherfield Park that day, and so Mr. Bennet was obliged to take General (also named by Lydia, but a year ago) in his stead. General, a beautiful black stallion was a costly purchase that Mr. Bennet felt was much deserved. 'For', thought he, 'though it cost quite a bit of pounds, the services he would render would far outweigh the price I had to pay.' Furthermore, Goliath was getting rather old, and a new stallion was just what was in need. Though Mr. Bennet failed to acknowledge that such stallions were purchased from young gentleman who preferred a fast (and at times dangerous) ride. Though General was of a fine breed, he was not yet a tried and true mount. Mr. Bennet did not mind, he felt he could handle any type of horse, and rather enjoyed the thought of being able to gallop freely through his estate. A choice that he thoroughly regretted that day, seeing as General kicked and bucked, throwing Mr. Bennet off his saddle. The last thing Mr. Bennet remembered was the feeling of being in the air, and in his terror could not help but think his sardonic thought of, _so this is what it feels like to fly,_ before being feeling an immense pain at the back of his head and promptly blacking out.

Mr. Bennet thankfully woke from his misadventure late into the afternoon. Disoriented, he wondered why he suddenly decided to take a nap in the middle of the fields of his estate. Just along the path was General, serenely feeding off vegetation, as if nothing had happened. Mr. Bennet, however, was not left contemplating long, for he remembered how he ended up on the ground. Looking up at the sky, Mr. Bennet noted, to his dismay, the eerie dark clouds that loomed over him. Sure enough, the heavens opened and it started to rain while he slowly picked himself up. He dared not ride General again. He learned his lesson –as hard as it was, and he would not risk taking another tumble, lest he break his neck! Instead, he decided to tread his way slowly back to Longbourn. When he entered, nothing seemed amiss. His family was nowhere to be seen, and he very much fancied that they were likely searching for him. He entered his bookroom and rang for a servant. Hill obediently entered quickly. Though he expected to hear accounts of his family filled with worry at his absence, Hill gave him no indication that that was the case. She did, to his chagrin, note his disheveled state, and quickly went to retrieve a water basin and washcloth while he warmed himself by the fire. He knew he ought to change –lest he fall ill- but he could not bring himself to face his wife just yet.

He could almost hear Mrs. Bennet's exclamations were he to catch a cold. 'Oh Mr. Bennet, how could you be so careless? Why, you are surely to catch your death and then what would become of us? We'd be thrown to the hedgerows before you are even cold in your grave!'

No, he was far better off waiting in his bookroom to dry before heading to his rooms and ready for dinner. When Hill returned, Mr. Bennet asked about his family, only to be informed she went to visit Lady Lucas in the carriage, no doubt to crow over Jane being invited to dine with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Not a thing was mentioned about his disappearance, indeed no one knew of his unfortunate accident. How long would he have been lying in the mud before he would be given much-needed succor? He would not know. He thought that surely they would realize his absence at dinner? Yet, seeing as he chose to take his repast in his bookroom –mostly to avoid his silly cousin –he thought perhaps not.

And what if he died? What he always thought as the ridiculous ramblings of his silly wife, did not seem so silly anymore. Indeed, now they felt almost prophetic. For, what would happen to his dear family once he died? He was loath to admit that he made no preparations for them. Them being thrown off to the hedgerows was a great possibility. Though he knew he would not leave them without friends –Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Phillips were sure to bring aid to Fanny and their daughters. He could not help but think, is that enough? Perhaps they could find a little cottage, and live very modestly –the provisions left to them wouldn't give them any other choice. Or they could be split up, the eldest live with the Gardiners while Mrs. Bennet and Kitty and Lydia lived with the Phillips'. But how long would these arrangements last? Jane and Elizabeth would have no choice but to seek employment. They would be governesses and companions at best. While he thought the very best of his daughters, he was practical enough to know they had no real accomplishments. At least, none of the required requisites for becoming a governess.

With a heavy heart, he decided that no, they did not know enough. Though his two eldest daughters were kind, intelligent, and beautiful, they did not have what was required for a life of service. The _only_ way to save them from poverty was for them to marry, and marry well. With these morose thoughts, Mr. Bennet decided to join Mrs. Bennet's campaign, and if any of his daughter's were so fortunate as to receive an offer of marriage, he would readily give his permission. He only hoped that his daughters would marry for affection, as well as duty.

* * *

*Chapter 18, _Pride and Prejudice_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Forced into an engagement with Mr. Collins, Elizabeth feels that her life is over. However, help comes unexpectedly in none other than Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. Will Mr. Darcy be able to prevent the ill-fated marriage? Or will Elizabeth be lost to Mr. Collins forever? Characters may be OOC.

This story takes place right after the Netherfield Ball, when Mr. Collins proposes to Elizabeth. I skipped over the proposal, and went straight to the scene where Mr. Bennet makes his decision on whether he would have Elizabeth marry Mr. Collins or not.

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : Pride and Prejudice is the sole property of Jane Austen. This story, however, is the property of the author © 2017, any unauthorized reproduction or publishing of any content of this story is strictly prohibited.

* * *

Elizabeth Bennet was no fool. Certainly she was headstrong (much to her mother's dismay), willful, impertinent, and, at times, had a sharp tongue (only very recently, and only to those who rightly deserved it –namely Mr. Collins). Despite her many faults, foolishness was not among them. After Elizabeth's despair at her father's edict, Elizabeth tried to contrive ways in which to get herself out of her current predicament. She knew that her father could not technically force her to marry Mr. Collins. That in order for them to marry, she had to give her acquiescence –one of which she was absolutely horrified to do. And yet, she also knew the consequences if she were to refuse –consequences her father was only too keen to point out only hours before.

Elizabeth went into her father's bookroom, his sanctuary from the turmoil that bubbled in the Bennet home, determined in changing his mind. She didn't care she was interrupting him, what she had to say was far more important than any book he was reading. And yet, when she walked in determine to speak her mind, her father didn't even spare her a glance, as he had his nose firmly placed in the book before him.

"Papa?" She asked timidly, walking into the room and placing herself at her favorite seat in front of her father's desk.

"Yes, Lizzy?" Said he, not caring to give his most beloved daughter a glance.

"Father please, I must speak with you, and I cannot hold a conversation with someone who refuses to look at me." She begged, wringing her hands on her lap, and fighting off tears she knew were bound to fall. She was not accustomed to her father's ill treatment, and could not fathom what she had done to deserve such treatment. Surely exercising her mind, and making decisions of her own was what her father had always taught her – _wanted_ for her.

"Oh? It seems we are holding a conversation just now." He replied sardonically.

"Please, papa? This is important to me." She said with such emotion, Mr. Bennet could do naught but what she asked, and set his book aside. "Very well, what can I do for you child?"

"You know very well what you could do, father."

He held up his hand, quieting any further protests from his daughter. "No Lizzy, you know very well I could not do as you ask. As you know, you must marry Mr. Collins. My mind is made up, and there is nothing you can say or do that will convince me otherwise."

"But he is utterly ridiculous!"

"Well Lizzy, I daresay you will have the benefit of having a husband to entertain you daily."

"I do not love him papa, and I never will. Pray, do not shackle me to that fool; do not have me living the rest of my life bound to a man I could never love, nor respect. Please father, I beg of you!"

"And here I thought the hysterics were characteristics only reserved for your mother and your silly sisters. I see that I was wrong. No Lizzy, I daresay no one has ever perished from marrying a person whom they held no affections for. Do not worry my child, I know you. I know you are not meant for unhappiness, and would soon grasp the opportunity that life has given you. I believe the sooner you accept Mr. Collins –because you will –the better it would be for all involved."

"Better for me, father? Or better for you?" Elizabeth replied, barely above a whisper. Mr. Bennet was only able to sputter, as he was taking a drink of his tea when his daughter had said this.

His reaction gave Elizabeth the courage, and her voice started to rise, steady and strong. "Do not think that I do not realize what little you have done for this family, to secure our futures. Where you could have been contriving ways to make Longbourn thrive, you've been here in this very bookroom, striving only for academic pursuits. Where you should have been investing your time and energy on this land, you've invested only in the improvement of your mind. Your indolence, _sir_ , is what has us in this very predicament."

"Elizabeth Bennet, you will not speak to your father in such a manner! I will not allow it!"

"I only speak the truth, papa."

"Yes, and since you seem to know so much, you must know how important a match it is for Mr. Collins to marry one of you girls. And his choice is _you_ , Elizabeth."

"I care not! I will not have him!" She replied fervently.

Mr. Bennet sighed, and rubbed a tired hand over his brow. Surely he knew how headstrong Lizzy is, and once he realized that she would not yield, he would give up this joke of a betrothal and let her choose her life as she sees fit. She hoped he would, anyway.

However, all of Elizabeth's hopes were dashed by Mr. Bennet's reply. "How many times must we argue the same point, Elizabeth? You will marry Mr. Collins, and that is _final_."

"No father, I will not. I refuse to be bound to such a man. I. Will. Not. Have. Him." She said, punctuating every point for further emphasis. She wanted, no _needed_ her father to understand that she would not yield.

"Yes you will." He all but growled. "I have had enough of your insolence. You will do as you're told!" He slammed his hands on his desk, rising and hunching over to stare down his daughter.

No, I will not!" Elizabeth rose from her chair quickly, knocking the chair to the floor with by the swiftness in which she stood; her emotions changing quickly from despair to anger at her father's tone and manner.

Mr. Bennet was a frightening shade of red before a curious look came across his face. He immediately sat down, and held a most serene smile. Had Elizabeth not witnessed what had just unfolded before her, she would not have believed it. How her father could go from being extremely angry to a most pleased expression, in the turn of a moment, stunned and unnerved her. It should very well have frightened her so, for what Mr. Bennet had said was, "You will, Elizabeth. For I know that though I cannot directly force you to accept Mr. Collins, there are ways to bend your will to my own."

"Be clear sir, for I do not understand what you are saying." The truth was, Elizabeth did understand. She knew that her father couldn't force her to accept Mr. Collins, but he could use other methods that gave her no option but to accept. Yet, she could not believe that her father would be capable of such. The man who loved her, promised to protect her. The man who held her on his lap and taught her the alphabet. The very man who held her when she would come crying to him, after she took her tumbles off the orchard trees. No, he would never cast her from her home, leave her friendless and penniless. She just couldn't – _wouldn't_ –believe it of him.

"Come now Lizzy," said he, "surely you must know." As Elizabeth remained tight-lipped he continued. "Very well, I shall explain. It is quite simple. If you will not have Mr. Collins, you will no longer have Longbourn as your home."

"No, you wouldn't. You wouldn't do that..."

"For your sake, and that of your mother and sisters, I would." He confirmed solemnly.

"But…"

"But what?" He interrupted. "Do you not care what will happen to your mother and sisters after my death? Though we have joked about it more times than I'd like to count, being 'thrown to the hedgerows,' as your mother puts it, is a very real possibility. Who will help you then, Elizabeth, after my death? Do you think any of your relatives would be able to support you? Would they be willing to?" As Elizabeth remained quiet, Mr. Bennet continued. "No, Elizabeth, they will not. I'm through with this conversation, it is best you now leave me to my pursuits," he said dismissively.

"No, I will not leave! I am not some pawn in your little game, father!" She cried.

Mr. Bennet smirked at Elizabeth before saying, "There is no game, Elizabeth. It is over –I declare checkmate."

"I am not friendless; someone would help me."

"Oh? Do you think your Aunt and Uncle Philips will take you in? Breaking an engagement would bring a scandal, knowing your aunt as I do, she would not want to be tied to such an individual. No, she will cast you out before you could utter a single word. I declare, she will not have shame brought upon her name –not if she could help it." He replied calmly –irking Elizabeth's nerves the more he spoke.

"My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner will take me in. I could go with them." Elizabeth felt triumphant. It was true, her aunt and uncle would take her in at a moment's notice. Besides, though her name would be tied to scandal, they would be far away that no one ought know her disgrace. Yes, Lizzy decided, she could be very happy living with them, indeed.

"Is that so?" said Mr. Bennet, breaking Elizabeth out of her moment's reverie. "And pray tell, how will you contact them? As you very well know, they are overseas at the moment, and will be gone for an undetermined amount of time."

"I can send word. They will take me with them."

"And when will that be? I assure you, Elizabeth, I will have you out this very afternoon if you do not abide by my ruling. I sincerely doubt you will be in contact with them any time soon. Not soon enough, at least, to help you out of this engagement."

The Lucases…" Elizabeth's voice was getting weaker and weaker by the moment, as were her arguments.

"The Lucases? I daresay. What are they to you? They are not family. Though I can say you _are_ friends with Miss Lucas, that friendship by no means will earn you housing and food on the table."

"I can work, I'll earn my keep!" Elizabeth was not about to give up, though it seemed hopeless, Elizabeth was not one to give up without a fight.

"As what –a governess? Dear Lizzy, we both know that although _I_ think the world of you, it does not mean you have the qualifications to become a governess. You must know a variety of skills, many of which are not included in your repertoire." He said in a mocking tone, all the more raising Elizabeth's ire.

"I can do other work," she replied, almost petulantly.

"Is that so? And what other work is left for a gentleman's daughter who –admittedly has had a unique education –is not one that is fit as a governess, nor a companion, if I am being honest. What does that leave you with? A maid? You have never worked a day in your life, you're not cut out for that sort of manual labor. Nor do you have prerequisite skills required for such a position. I dare say, you leaving this house, the only employment you will find is working on Granby Street, living off immoral earnings."

Elizabeth was shocked at her father's words. Not only for their content, but for the very coarseness of his utterings. It was one matter for him to think it, but a completely different matter for him to inform his daughter of his crass thoughts –his _maidenly_ daughter! Who was this man, and what had he done with her father? Though he looked like her father, spoke like her father, she could do naught but look at him as a stranger. She then realized she never truly knew the man she thought she knew her entire life. Everything –the shared jokes, the tender moments –all of it was a lie. Dismayed at her sudden realization, Elizabeth quickly quit the room. She did not even give a spare glance at the man that was once known to her as 'father.' No, he was not that. Elizabeth decided from that day forward, he would forevermore be 'Mr. Bennet.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** Forced into an engagement with Mr. Collins, Elizabeth feels that her life is over. However, help comes unexpectedly in none other than Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. Will Mr. Darcy be able to prevent the ill-fated marriage? Or will Elizabeth be lost to Mr. Collins forever? Characters may be OOC.

 **Disclaimer** : Pride and Prejudice is the sole property of Jane Austen. This story, however, is the property of the author © 2017, any unauthorized reproduction or publishing of any content of this story is strictly prohibited.

 **AN:** Dearest readers, I sincerely apologize for the too long delay. I hope this chapter will appease you all.

* * *

Mr. Bingley is a man that one might surmise has a sunny disposition. His easy, unaffected manners, and pleasant countenance were all of which lent credence to this assessment. However, what many did not realize is that Mr. Bingley had a propensity to devalue himself, and so he heavily relied upon the opinion of others in concern with matters of the heart. This is not to say he denigrated himself in all aspects, no, for he was a shrewd, confident man in the matters of business. Choosing a life partner, however, is much different than making business decisions. Often times than not, Mr. Bingley questioned himself thoroughly. Was he handsome enough –good enough –for her? Did she truly love him, or was she (like so many others before her) after his money?

Indeed, life had taught Mr. Bingley to be careful –very careful –in the prospect of choosing a wife. This was an undeniably hard learn lesson to learn, once the harshness of reality set in. Aye, providence did him a great service when he overheard Miss Taylor those years ago. For what else could it have been, if not providence? He still remembers almost as if it were yesterday.

* * *

Mr. Bingley arrived at a ball he originally had no intentions of attending, however business out of town concluded much faster than he anticipated. Instead of making a call to his beloved, he decided he would surprise her. They would dance, and laugh, and once she would request refreshments, or declare she was in need of fresh air (for she used this trick with Mr. Bingley, who was utterly delighted to spend alone time with her), he would request a private word. They would go out to a lonely balcony, or step into a deserted parlor where he would confess his undying love. She would return his sentiments endearingly, and they would be engaged to wed.

Mr. Bingley planned it out perfectly, and carried the ring he had purchased just a fortnight ago for the occasion. Miss Taylor –Celia –only deserved the very best, and so he selected a ring that, he hoped, would compliment her beauty and grace. Once at the ball, Mr. Bingley set out to find his beloved, and found her he did. While approaching a balcony, he heard her unmistakable tinkling of her laughter. Smiling to himself, Bingley approached, but did not make himself known. He had decided it was the moment to propose. Surely, her being on the balcony was a sign from fate, so he seized the opportunity presented to him, and remained hidden. All he had to do was wait until Miss Taylor, and her cousin, Miss Morris made their way back inside.

And so, it was much of a surprise when, while waiting for the two women to finish their tête-a-tête, that he heard the most disturbing of confidences.

"I do not know how you do it Celia, put up with that man so," declared Miss Morris, "his father was a tradesman you know."

Miss Taylor sighed. "Yes, yes. It is an unfortunate business, but what could be done? Father wants me wed before the year is out, and Bingley is the only gentleman whom I believe will make me an offer."

"And what of Mr. Willoughby?" Enquired Miss. Morris.

"What of him?" Was Miss Taylor's harsh reply.

"Do not play coy with me, Celia. I am your *Gooseberry-picker, after all," said Miss Morris.

At this, Miss Taylor smiled coquettishly before replying, "Yes, 'tis a shame his wealth is all tied up to his elderly relation."

"So, will you give him up?"

"Heavens no! Why on earth would you say that?" Miss Taylor said, rather put out by all the questioning from her cousin.

"Ah, I believe I understand you rightly. Worry not dear cousin, I will continue to be your Gooseberry-picker, and I daresay your other young man will be none the wiser."

"As it should be. Although Bingley is not as handsome, nor as intellectual as Willoughby, he is still a good sort of man. He will take care of me, and give me all that is due as his wife."

"I still do not think you should act in such haste, many will turn their backs on you for marrying the son of a tradesman," Miss Morris cautioned.

Miss Taylor merely shrugged. "He is rather rich, is he not? I daresay that will make me happy enough." She replied airily.

Soon after, both ladies decided to go back indoors, neither aware of the captive audience they passed.

Bingley found himself understandably horrified, and utterly heartbroken. How could she speak of him so? Did she not care for him at all? Evidently not, given what he had just overheard. Moreover, how could one be so careless, really? She was in no doubt that an engagement was soon to come, and it would have, had he not overheard their confidences. Once he was certain they were out of sight, Bingley left the ball hurriedly, never to approach Miss Taylor again.

* * *

Although Bingley suffered acutely, he also learned to harden his heart when it came to the fairer sex, for he did not want to suffer such a disappointment again. And so, Mr. Bingley has had many flirtations since, and yes, found himself attracted to many women over the years, but none have ever truly touched his heart, not until now.

Miss Jane Bennet was all that was good and pure in his eyes. She was an _angel_ , he was sure of it. Or so he originally thought. So much so, he was to propose shortly after returning from London. He dared not propose at the Netherfield ball, his past experience prohibited him from doing so. With those happy thoughts in mind, Mr. Bingley quickly left Netherfield the day after the ball, eager to conclude his business and return to his angel. Much to Bingley's surprise, he was shortly reunited with his sisters, his brother Hurst and Darcy in his London home.

His family, and Darcy joined Mr. Bingley in the drawing room. After the greetings were exchanged, Mr. Bingley said, "Louisa, Caroline, Hurst, Darcy; not that I am not pleased to see you, but," here Mr. Bingley hesitated. He did not want to insult his family and friend, yet he had no other way of asking, so therefore decided forthrightness was the best way to approach, "what brings you to town? I thought we were to meet back at Netherfield." He raised a quizzical brow.

Mr. Hurst, clearly not wanting part of the scheme that was to unfold, excused himself in want of refreshing himself –in other words meant enjoying his brother's ample supply of port and sweetmeats, to those who know him. Once Hurst was out of the room, the verbal assault began.

"And why should we remain there, Charles?" Caroline questioned sweetly. "You are here. There is no reason for us to remain in that backwater county. I much prefer the diversions town has to offer, as does Louisa." She concluded, with a nod from Louisa showing her acquiescence.

"Yes but, I will be returning within a few days. What sense is there to coming only when we will be leaving again shortly?" Bingley reasoned. For he was going to return to his angel, there was no doubt about it.

"Pray tell, why should you be returning Charles?" Miss Bingley shot quick glances at their sister and Darcy. Charles noting this frowned.

"Why ever not!" He cried, "Surely you know that I must return. I have to return to my angel."

"Oh Charles, do be serious!" Mrs. Hurst chastened.

Bingley had an incredulous look on his face when he replied, "I have raised her expectations, I must return! Surely you understand, Louisa?""

"No, you must not. Indeed, you are fortunate you have escaped when you have before she caught you in the parson's mousetrap!" Miss Bingley replied hastily.

"Then I am gladly caught, for who would not want to marry such an angel," was Mr. Bingley's jovial reply.

"Do be serious! How could you fall for such a fortune hunter!" Miss Bingley cried.

At this, Bingley did a quick inhalation of breath, and calmed before replying, "Nay you are mistaken. Jane Bennet is the most honest, kind, and beautiful creature I have ever beheld. She is no fortune hunter, sister."

"Are you quite certain Bingley?" Mr. Darcy chimed in; mere observer just moments before, Darcy was now taking an active role in the argument, much to Mr. Bingley's dismay.

"Whatever do you mean?" He sputtered.

Mr. Darcy then went on explaining, in absolute detail, the reasons why Bingley should stay away from Hertfordshire, and most importantly, Jane Bennet. He discussed her want of fortune, inferior connections, the want of propriety from her family members –save Jane and Miss Elizabeth, of course –all of which Mr. Bingley adamantly rebuffed. For what does fortune matter, when he has enough fortune for the both of them? As to connections, well, she is a gentleman's daughter what more could he need? Certainly that being the case she will elevate him in the eyes of society. Although, admittedly, not as much as Caroline or Louisa would prefer, which is a small price to pay for his future happiness, in his opinion.

Seeing as he was not convincing his friend, Mr. Darcy decided to change tactics.

"I do agree, Bingley that Miss Bennet is all that is proper and lovely. I do not refute that my friend." At this Mr. Bingley smiled, he knew Darcy would see her good qualities, much like he did. "Though good heavens, have you not heard the mother?"

"Yes, I know Mrs. Bennet can be," at this he paused, attempting to choose the right word, for he did not want to insult his future mother,  
"quite exuberant at times, yet I feel it shows how much she cares for her daughters."

At this Darcy snorted and the room filled with the sounds of his sisters' titters. Bingley uncharacteristically scowled in return, stood up and began to pace.

"Charles, stop pacing about in such a stupid manner. Do sit down." Miss Bingley entreated. Bingley looked at the proffered seat, but continued at his pacing, deciding it was better to work off his rising anger than sit down and have it build up even more.

At that point, Mr. Darcy walked over to his friend and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "No my friend, that is not of what I speak. That woman is vulgar, and attempts to sell off her children to the highest bidder! Do you not remember her comments the first night we met the Bennet's at the assembly? What was that comment she made, regarding verses?"

Mr. Darcy furrowed his brow in concentration, "Ah yes, I remember. She said a man once wrote her pretty verses at fifteen. Fifteen Bingley! Why, that is almost Georgiana's age. She was a child yet, and had that man made an offer, I have not doubt that Miss Bennet would not be Miss Bennet at this time. I am certain of it, no matter what Miss Bennet's feelings were at that time."

"Then I must praise God that _that_ man never proposed to my beloved!" Bingley cried.

"That is exactly the point, Bingley! Do you not see? Miss Bennet will do _anything_ to please her family," Darcy reasoned.

"She loves me Darcy, I know it. I feel it!" Bingley was getting so worked up his face started matching his hair.

Seeing this, Darcy made a calming gesture, "She smiles at you Bingley, I cannot deny it. Although I cannot deny that she smiles at you just as she smiles at anyone."

"'Tis not so!" Bingley declared vehemently, fists clenched at his sides.

"Is it not? I assure you Bingley, I, as well as your sisters," Darcy then made a motion to Caroline and Louisa who nodded in agreement, "were watching you both carefully a few days ago at the ball."

Here, Mr. Darcy paused and had a large intake of breath before delivering this verbal blow, for he knew he was going to hurt Bingley with his observations. "Although she received your attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment. Indeed, her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remain convinced from the evening's scrutiny."

"Nay Darcy, you are mistaken! You _must_ be mistaken." Mr. Bingley said, almost pleadingly.

"I cannot be. For you see, I shall not scruple to assert to you that the serenity of Miss Bennet's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched. – For you, my friend, I wish it were not so. However, I do not believe her to be indifferent because I wish it, I believe it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. She does not love you Bingley, she wants you for your fortune as did Miss Taylor!"

At this declaration Bingley stumbled to the chair, hands over his face trying to calm his breathing. When he felt he had his emotions under (tenuous) regulation, Bingley finally replied through gritted teeth, "Do not compare the two, sir! Jane is nothing similar to Miss Taylor!"

"Look at me Bingley! Look at me," when Mr. Bingley finally me his eye, Mr. Darcy continued. "Why would I lie? Granted, Miss Bennet likely has more altruistic motives than Miss Taylor, I give you that. However, you cannot deny that she would be _forced_ to accept you to secure her family. Her mother will insist upon it. Are you willing to condemn not only yourself, but your beloved as well, to a lifetime of unhappiness? For that is what you will have if you marry Miss Bennet, I assure you." Mr. Darcy concluded solemnly.

"Are you certain, Darcy. Quite certain?" Bingley eyed Mr. Darcy through unshed tears. He felt most undignified, yet he had to know.

"Charles! Why would dear Mr. Darcy lie? Besides, Louisa and I have served as witnesses, and could attest that what Mr. Darcy says is true. Is that not so, Louisa?"

"Yes," Mrs. Hurst nodded emphatically, "'tis quite so!"

Ignoring Miss Bingley's outburst and Mrs. Hurst's subsequent reply, Mr. Darcy solemnly said, "yes Charles, I am certain."

With that affirmation, Bingley's shoulders slumped. "Please leave me," he finally said.

"But Charles, surely you will not go anymore, not after what we have revealed," Miss Bingley whined.

"I said," Bingley almost shouted, "leave me be!"

With that, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley quit the drawing room immediately, muttering something about ungrateful brothers that do not know what is good for them.

Mr. Darcy, however, did not. Instead he placed a gentle hand on his friends shoulder and gave him a supportive squeeze. "I shall leave you be, Charles, since it is your wish. Pray, do not hesitate on sending word if you so wish it. I will always be here for you, my friend." With that, Mr. Darcy departed the Bingley townhouse and left for his own with a heavy heart.

* * *

And so, Mr. Bingley allowed himself to be persuaded to quit Netherfield, never to see Miss Bennet again. What his companions did not account for, nor could they have expected, was that Bingley had requested updates from the Netherfield steward, Mr. Johnson. Truly, although he agreed to leave, he could not bring himself to close off all connections to Hertfordshire, not quite yet. Unbeknownst to his sisters (and Darcy), Mr. Bingley left instructions with the newly appointed steward to contact him with all the news of Hertfordshire before his departure.

What Mr. Bingley could not have imagined, indeed what anyone could not anticipate was Mr. Johnson's good will toward the Bennet family, specifically, the eldest daughters. And so, it was much to the surprise and dismay of Mr. Bingley when he received a letter from Mr. Johnson, updating him on Netherfield lands. This, in and of itself, would not be so fretful if there was not a line at the very end bringing news that it was believed the Bennet family would soon be in celebration of matrimony, with absolutely no mention of which Bennet lady it would be.

"Blast!" Bingley cursed, then quickly set off into action.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Comments? Go ahead and leave a review. :)**

 ***Gooseberry-picker:** According to an article called _Victorianism-_ _Adventures in Victorian Slang_ , a Gooseberry-picker is "a confidant in love matters, who shields the couple, and brings about interviews between them."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** Forced into an engagement with Mr. Collins, Elizabeth feels that her life is over. However, help comes unexpectedly in none other than Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. Will Mr. Darcy be able to prevent the ill-fated marriage? Or will Elizabeth be lost to Mr. Collins forever? Characters may be OOC.

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : Pride and Prejudice and all its characters are the sole property of Jane Austen. This story, however, is the property of the author © 2017, any unauthorized reproduction or publishing of any content of this story is strictly prohibited.

* * *

 **AN:** I sincerely hope you do not mind the title change, dear readers. I feel that although the other title was a good one, it was not really reflective of where I wanted (and still want) this story to go. A special thanks to the guest reviewer who gave me this title originally. For those of you who do not know, the title is a quote from Beatrice in "Much Ado About Nothing."

Thank you all for your thoughts and encouragement.

-DS

* * *

Mr. Darcy was having a day as any other. Indeed, his days have been much the same since his return to town on the twenty-seventh of November, though not much time has passed. He was currently residing in Darcy House, his London home, where he had just finished correspondence with his steward regarding a dispute amongst two of his tenants. It was curious that most of the strife occurred while he was away, for there were hardly any problems such as these whilst he was present at Pemberley. Such was the life for the master of Pemberley, he supposed.

Inheriting Pemberley at an early age, compared to most of his friends and acquaintances, Darcy worked hard to keep his lands thriving, and to keep the people who worked under him happy. Very much his father's son, Darcy believed one had to work diligently to reap a great reward. "Whatever a man soweth, that shall he also reap," was his father's favourite proverb. One in which Darcy held close to heart.

He only hoped his recent actions would not hurt anyone in the long run. He felt guilty. Given some time to think on it, he wondered if he was not too hasty on his misgivings regarding Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet. He wondered if he watched her closely enough, as his eyes were more favorably engaged with her sister, Miss Elizabeth. _Eilzabeth._ Just thinking her name brought a deepening ache in his breast. Although it has been a little over a sennight, it felt like he has been separated from her for ages. 'I will conquer this,' he said to himself vehemently.

Mr. Darcy has been uncharacteristically busy with social engagements as of late. Ranging from fencing, balls, dinners, the theater, visits to the museum, and etc. Mostly, if he admitted as much to himself, he kept busy to keep thoughts of one Miss Elizabeth Bennet at bay.

Once finished with his correspondence, he sought sustenance by the procurement of afternoon tea. He just entered the drawing room and sat down for his customary tea when in burst Mr. Bingley.

"Darcy! I must speak with you." Mr. Bingley exclaimed.

"Whatever is the matter Bingley?" Mr. Darcy stood up at once. "Is it your sisters? Are they well?" At Mr. Bingley's continued pacing he said, "Or is it your great aunt in Scarborough? She fares well, I hope?"

"Nay, nay. 'Tis nothing of the sort, rest easy. What I came to tell you is that I must return to Hertfordshire." Bingley said.

"Hertfordshire?" Mr. Darcy questioned.

"Yes," he then thrust the letter to Mr. Darcy who received it bemusedly. However, once the content was quickly scanned, Darcy turned immediately pale and collapsed on his chair without further comment.

"Do you not see? I must see if it 'tis her. You said so yourself, her mother would force her, and I know she cares about me, Darcy. I know it." He then gave Mr. Darcy a glare that seemed to say, 'contradict me if you dare.' He did not.

"How could I let her subject herself to another man?" He continued, "I cannot! I will elope with her to Gretna Green if necessary."

At this proclamation, there were two quick intakes of breath from behind Mr. Bingley.

"Bingley!" Darcy hissed, and then gave a quick glance behind Mr. Bingley, where Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley were on their seetee with their tea quite forgotten in mid air. Seeing the gentleman look to them, Mrs. Annesley was snapped out of her stupor and quickly corrected Georgiana wordlessly, encouraging her to put her teacup down as well.

"Pray, do forgive me Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley," he said sheepishly, "I did not know there were others here." He added unnecessarily, as it was clearly evident to all in the room.

"Although, perhaps 'tis most fortuitous that you are here. I have a favor to ask, you see." Here he looked pleadingly at Darcy, "I was hoping that you Darcy," he turned to his friend who was struggling to gain his equilibrium, "and you Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley of course, will join me at Netherfield."

"Netherfield?" Was all Darcy could say, for he was analysing the situation. The very thought of Elizabeth –Miss! Elizabeth –being betrothed was a very real possibility.

"Ah, yes. As you know, my sisters do not want to return to the country," here he gave a sidelong glance at Darcy, his intention was to not reveal his sisters vehement disapproval to Miss Darcy. However, Darcy said nary a word. His thoughts were otherwise unfavorably engaged.

Darcy remembered the particular attentions the odious parson paid to Elizabeth. They had opened the ball together and danced two dances –not one, but two! While Miss Elizabeth did not seem particularly pleased by his attentions, Mrs. Bennet was over the moon. When not speaking of Miss Bennet and Bingley's 'pending nuptials', she was declaring, quite vociferously, her hopes of "another match happening quite soon." He remembers almost as if he was in the very ballroom the day Netherfield held its ball when Mrs. Bennet directed pointed looks at her second eldest daughter who was dancing with Mr. Collins.

At the time, Darcy did not think much on it. Why should he? He knew he would not –could not –offer for her. His obligations to his family, her connections, the very inferiority of her birth were all that prevented him from ever allowing such an alliance.

He also very much doubted she would align herself with such a man as _that_ parson. How could she? She who is beautiful, kind, witty and intelligent; align herself to such a buffoon? A man who is a sycophant; who won his very title as parson under his aunt's patronage due to his very obsequiousness. Nay, he is a fool.

'Elizabeth would never be with such a man, when she could have me,' his heart whispered. The traitorous heart that he tried to silence since his arrival in London would be silent no longer. And yet, how would she know? Indeed, Mr. Darcy was very discreet, and was certain no one knew of his preference for Miss Elizabeth, save Miss Bingley, but that was neither here nor there. He knew the she would not breathe a word, for she coveted the title of Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley, one of which would never be granted to her.

Fear gripped him like a vice in the pit of his stomach. Elizabeth knew not his preference for her. She knew not she had in him a savior from an unsavory marriage, if faced with marriage to the parson or himself.

His mind not ruling over his heart any longer, he said, "Yes Bingley, I shall join you in Hertfordshire."

Grinning, Bingley clasped his hand on Darcy's shoulder and said, "I knew you would not fail me Darcy."

Darcy only gave a curt nod in return, for he did not have altruistic motives for following Bingley. Nay, it was very much in his own interest to go to Hertfordshire. He must know if it was Miss Elizabeth. His heart would not let him do anything less. Besides, he already doubted his actions against Miss Bennet. Although his intentions were honorable, being in the service of a friend, he could not have been certain if she cared for Bingley or not. If he were being honest with himself, he would realize that he paid too much attention to Miss Elizabeth to spare a glance at her older sister. His observations were cursory at best, and only after he had that argument with Elizabeth over the scoundrel, Wickham. He was hardly in the best mindset to be observing another party and trying to comprehend her feelings.

Shaking his thoughts, Darcy added, "Georgiana and I will discuss this further before I make a decision on whether she and Mrs. Annesley will join us, as she has much to do in town. Perhaps my company alone will have to make due."

Georgiana gazed at her brother in askance, but said not a word.

"Right, I do hope you come Miss Darcy, for not only would your gracious company be most welcome, but I will be in need of a hostess. Who better than the sister of Darcy, hmm?" Mr. Bingley asked jovially.

She only nodded and gave a small smile in return.

Shortly thereafter Mr. Bingley bid his adieus, as he had much to do, given he planned on arriving at Netherfield the day after the morrow. After Bingley quit the room, Darcy asked if he could have a word alone with Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley readily acquiesced.

Once Mr. Darcy ensured their privacy, he turned to Georgiana, a sorrowful expression on his face. "Dearest, I cannot say how sorry I am for what I am about to say. Pray, do forgive me."

"Whatever can it be, brother? You have nothing to apologise for."

"'Tis not so, poppet. What I have to reveal to you will distress you, and for that I am sorry. I would feel remiss, however, if I did not mention it, and let you go to Hertfordshire without knowing all." Darcy replied solemnly.

Turning pale, Georgiana said, "What is it, Fitzwilliam? What is it that has you so distressed?"

Leading his sister to sit down, and taking a seat next to her, he finally said, "George Wickham is in Hertfordshire."

The only telling sign that she heard was the quick gasp of air, as her face betrayed not a thing, so Darcy pressed on. "He is in the militia that is stationed there, Georgiana. He… he has ingratiated himself with the people there." Here he gave a rueful laugh, "As you know, he is quite adept at making friends." The bitter words left unsaid were hanging in the air between them, like a thick fog.

"Mr. Bingley mentioned a Miss Bennet. Pray, is it the same Miss Bennet you wrote me of?" Miss Darcy asked, adeptly changing the subject.

"No, 'tis the eldest Miss Bennet that Bingley has fallen in love with, Miss Jane Bennet. I wrote you of…"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet." Georgiana replied for Darcy.

"Yes," said he.

"And, do you have feelings for her?" Georgiana asked delicately.

"I… I," he hesitated.

Georgiana gave Darcy a knowing smile. "I shall go with you to Hertfordshire."

"What of Wickham? I could not bear to see you harmed." Darcy replied earnestly.

"What of him? I shall ensure to always be accompanied by yourself or Mrs. Annesley. He cannot say a word against me. I daresay you and Richard have ensured that. What was it, oh yes, lest he risk life or limb?" Georgiana replied.

"How do you know about that?" Darcy questioned sharply, too stunned to regulate his tone.

"Richard told me," said she.

"Richard went too far. He should not have told you," was Darcy's vehement reply.

"I am no longer a child, Fitzwilliam. You cannot protect me all my life. I must know of the world around me. If I did, perhaps," she paused and took a fortifying breath, "perhaps I would not have consented to elope had I been more informed."

Seeing Darcy's pained expression, she placed a hand on his arm and gave a gentle squeeze, "It gives me peace of mind to know how much you and Richard care for me. What you both are willing to do to protect me from the likes of _that_ man. Do not fret, dear brother, all will be well."

At seeing Darcy's downcast expression, she pressed on, "I do not blame you for what occurred, I cannot. They were my choices that got me in that predicament, you see."

At seeing the protest Darcy would undoubtedly say, she held up a hand to forestall him. They have had this argument many times before. Darcy felt he was to blame for Georgiana's near elopement; she just wanted him to understand that she was to blame, that her actions have consequences. Well, her and Wickham, but the fact is that she was not faultless. Had she acted within the bounds of propriety, nothing unsavory would have occurred at Ramsgate. For Wickham could not have taken an unwilling woman. Could he? That was a question to be left for a later time. She needed to reassure her brother that he was not at fault for her mistakes, she was. She had argued these points with him too many times to count. She just hoped he would listen and take to heart what she had to say.

"Do not argue with me, Fitzwilliam, 'tis the truth. Besides, I am very much grateful that I was blessed with the very best of men as my dearest brother. One who will never renounce me, even if my shame had become known."

Darcy returned this declaration with a shy smile of his own, placed an arm over her shoulder and held her to him. "Never poppet, I would never." He then kissed the crown of her head; much like their father would do to comfort them.

"Good," Georgiana pulled away and looked at him mischievously, "Now let us discuss this trip into Hertfordshire."

* * *

 **AN:** Thoughts? Comments? Go ahead and leave a review. :)


End file.
